Masochist
by batistaangel15
Summary: After the way the Doctor handled the Racnoss, he starts to question if he really saves people or just destroys everyone he encounters and has a fight with himself and his demons. Warning: contains minor violence, suicidal thoughts, self loathing, anger and depression. (Slight Ten Whump)
1. A Stranger

**A/N:****First fanfic! No pressure *nervous laugh* I love delving into the Doctor's inner struggles (that's not weird, right? Oh well…) Anyways, hope you enjoy! The prologue is basically the end of the Runaway Bride so you can skip that if you'd like.**

**Disclaimer:****I don't own Doctor Who. The BBC does. Some of the dialogue was borrowed from a couple episodes (in the prologue and italicized flashbacks). If I owned DW, I would have been fangirling over David Tennant the whole time & stalking him in his trailer xD There are pieces of dialogue and references from the episodes Runaway Bride, Age of Steel, the Satan Pit and Doomsday.**

_**Prologue**_

_(Dialogue from the end of 'the Runaway Bride')_

"So...what will you do with yourself now?" the Doctor asked Donna Noble curiously. After a day like this certainly the woman's perspective of life would definitely change from what it was before the events of today. After all she found out that aliens actually do exist and that there many vast planets and galaxies just waiting to be explored. Not to mention vanishing into thin air while walking down the aisle on her wedding day due to deadly Huon particles, transporting onto a spaceship that looks like a blue Police Public Call box that's bigger on the inside and travels in time and space, encountering killer robot Santas and Christmas trees and an Empress of an alien spider species known as the Racnoss trying to bring back her children and rebuild the Earth, finding out her fiancee was working for said species then falls into a hole leading to the center of the Earth.

"Not getting married for starters," Donna laughed, "And I'm not gonna temp anymore. I dunno...travel...see a bit more of planet Earth...walk in the dust. Just...go out there and do something."

"Well, you could always..."

"What?"

"...come with me," the Doctor finished gently.

Donna smiled lightly, "No."

"Okay," the Doctor nodded quickly, eyes on the ground.

"I can't..."

"No, that's fine," he waved her off, trying his best to conceal his indifference to her decision.

"No, but really...everything we did today...do you live your life like that?"

He hesitated for a second. "Not all the time."

"I think you do. And I couldn't."

"But you've seen it out there," he tried to reason. "It's beautiful."

"And it's terrible," Donna shook her head, "That place was flooding and burning and they were dying and you…" she paused for a second, "Were stood there like...I don't know. A stranger. And then you made it snow." She let out a small laugh, but the Doctor sensed there wasn't much humor in it. "I mean, you scare me to death!"

Silence hung between them for a moment. He can only imagine what he must have looked like from Donna's perspective; standing in horror as this man, this stranger, this _alien_ watched the Empress of the Racnoss, a species going extinct, scream as her children were drowning and the place was burning. And he was the one who made it happen. "Well then," he finally said, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Tell you what I will do though. Christmas dinner," Donna offered with a small smile and the Doctor's eyes widened, "Oh, come on."

He shook his head, "I don't do that sort of thing."

"You did it last year, you said so. And you might as well because Mum always cooks enough for twenty."

The Doctor tilted his head from side to side about to protest but as he looked back at Donna he decided best not to argue with her. Blowing out his breath he gave up. "Oh, alright then. But you go first, better warn them. And...don't say I'm a Martian." With his hand still on the door frame of the TARDIS, he gave the ship a light pat. "I just have to park her properly, otherwise she might drift off to the Middle Ages. I'll see you in a minute."

He turned to head back inside the ship, a small frown grazing his lips. He couldn't have dinner with this woman. It just wasn't what he did. Only once did he let himself give in to such domestic activities of humans, for one particular pink and yellow human girl. Only her.

Without hesitation he flipped the switch on the console and set the TARDIS in flight. Just as it started to dematerialize, he heard a shout from outside. "Doctor!" It was Donna. She was going back inside her house when he had went back in the TARDIS, but must have caught on to his intentions and came back out.

Stopping the engines the Doctor popped his head out the door, "Blimey, you can shout," he said.

"Am I ever gonna see you again?"

He gave a small smile, "If I'm lucky,"

"Just...promise me one thing. Find someone."

"I don't need anyone," the Doctor stressed. _It's probably better that way_, he thought to himself.

"Yes, you do. Because sometimes, I think you need someone to stop you."

The Doctor blinked. Was he really that dangerous to be left out on his own? It's not like it was his first time being alone in all nine hundred years of his life. But then the Time War happened and everything changed. Everyone died. Every single one of the Time Lords burned along with Gallifrey as it fell by his own hands. His own people - his friends, his family, his enemies. He committed genocide. And he did it again today to the Racnoss. He was letting them all drown in the surging waters of the Thames and he would have went with them if Donna hadn't snapped him out of his trance. With all these dark images flooding his mind, he finally said, "Yeah," with noticeable emotion.

Pausing for a moment, he lightened his mood, "Thanks then, Donna. And just be…magnificent,"he added with a soft smile.

Donna returned the smile and laughed, "I think I will, yeah." With the smile still on his face he turned to go back into the TARDIS. Just as he shut the door he heard, "Doctor?"

The Doctor opened the door and popped back out with mock exasperation. "Oh, what is it now?"

"That friend of yours...what was her name?"

The Doctor's throat became tight. The same way it had earlier that day when Donna found a certain and familiar top onboard the TARDIS and asked where his friend was. The friend he had lost. No, she wasn't just a friend to him. She was his everything - his shining star that lit up the dark gallows of sadness and pain in his eyes, worth every rhythmic beat of his hearts. His…_love_. Though she may never know exactly how he felt about her. With a broken voice, he finally told Donna the name of that special person, "Her name was Rose."

And with that, he closed the door for the last time as the TARDIS shot up into the night's sky, leaving Donna Noble on the snowy ground watching with a sad smile before walking back home.


	2. Alone I Break

****WARNING: This chapter contains anger, slight violence, suicidal thoughts, self loathing & depression. **

_**Chapter 1**_

After setting the TARDIS in flight the Doctor sat on the jump seat, leaning back with his legs propped up on the console and crossed at his ankles while staring up at the glow of the time rotor. There was no specific destination he had set in the coordinates, he was just floating among the stars. However his ship wasn't all that was drifting off into deep, far away places. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh of grief as he tried to not think about today's events.

That was easier said than done as the memories began to haunt his mind.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

_"I give you one last chance. I can find you a planet. I can find you a place in the universe to coexist. Take that offer and end this now." He offered with a cold expression._

_"The man is funny," the Empress said._

_"What's your answer?" _

_"Oh—I'm afraid I have to decline,"_ _she cackled in response_

_"What happens next is your own doing," he said scarily calm as the Oncoming Storm was starting to come over him. She would suffer for the things she had done. He would make sure of it._

_"My children may feast on Martian flesh," the Empress exclaimed._

_"Oh, but I'm not from Mars," he told her._

_"Then where?"_

_"My home planet is far away and long since gone. But its name lives on. Gallifrey."_

_The Empress hissed in anger, "They murdered the Racnoss!"_

_"I warned you. You did this," he responded as he pulled out a handful of baubles from his pocket._

_"No!" the Empress shrieked, now panicking, "No! Don't! No!"_

_The Doctor threw them into the air, some surrounding the Empress while others exploded as they smashed into the walls, letting in the raging water from the Thames. Another bauble exploded, causing a fire to to blaze up near the Empress. As the water flooded into the chamber and down the hole, she cried, "My children!" _

_The Doctor watched in silence, not in the least caring about being surrounded by fire and water, as the raging waves went down the hole like a drain._

_"No!" the Empress still cried in pain, "My children! My children!"_

_"Doctor!" Donna shouted up at him, "You can stop now!"_

_But the Doctor hadn't registered her pleas. He remained standing still, just watching as the Racnoss wailed in agony at her losses. Her painful cries were melodic to his state of mind. All of the pain. So much pain…_

_Something in him snapped him back to reality. Glancing down a moment, he saw Donna still standing on the ground floor with fear in her eyes. He was so absorbed in his actions he forgot she was there. Looking back up for a moment he stared once more at the Empress as she writhed in the water, the flames dancing behind her. He had to stop. Regaining his focus he looked back down at the frightened ginger, "Come on! Time I got you out!"_

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The Doctor sucked in a breath and scrubbed his hands down his face as the images surpassed. Donna was right when she said he scared her to death. He was a monster. He might as well have been a bloody Dalek. In that moment of turmoil he could care less about the Empress's cries and her children drowning in the hole. He stood there with a stern expression on his face, revealing the Oncoming Storm. All he thrived on was her pain of losing everything that meant something to her. He wanted to witness her suffering and the look of anguish on her face as everything around her blew up in balls of fire.

He wanted her to suffer just as he had to when he ended the Time War.

Was that really what he wanted to do, though? Yes of course he _had_ to stop her in order to save the Earth, it was what he did, saving the universe, but did he really _want _ to completely wipe out another species? He already had enough blood on his hands from destroying an entire race - that of his own people. And now he had another coat to drench his already stained hands into.

Rubbing his eyes with his fingers, the Doctor stood from the jump seat and held onto the console for support. He felt dizzy and sick in the pit of his stomach. He needed to get away. He wanted to do what he did best - run. Just run away from the darkness that crept up on him and from the demons clawing at his insides. But he couldn't. They would always be there waiting for him and take cheap shots at him. He felt numb as he walked slowly around the console.

He remembered what the Beast had called him as the words echoed in his head: _the killer of his own kind_. That's who he was. He calls himself the Doctor, a man who helps others, but was he really?

The Doctor suddenly ran into the corridors, trying to get as deep into the TARDIS as he could go. His ship sensed his distress and placed his bedroom door in front of him for easier access. Grasping the knob, he entered his room and slammed the door shut. He was filled with a rage burning in his veins. Shaking inside, he clenched his teeth and let out a strangled growl. He stormed into his en suite and went over to his sink and grasped its edges, lowering his head.

No matter how hard he tried he still couldn't stop the Beast's words from ringing in his ears. _Killer of his own kind. _On and on they kept replaying, sending him closer to the edge with each word. Raising his head the Doctor was met with his reflection. He could practically see the demons laughing at him and dancing around in a victorious manner, the raging flames burning deep in the depths of his eyes, shining black as a starless night. The face of a monster. He couldn't stand to look at himself right now. His knuckles were white as his grip tightened to the edges of the sink. Grinding his teeth down as he growled again he took one last look in the mirror before smashing his fist straight through the glass. The shards shattered across the tile floor, falling into the sink. One of the smallest pieces actually connecting with his face just above his left eyebrow. He was swift with his actions as he lowered his fist immediately after he had made contact. The strong smell of blood filled the air as a long, deep gash stretched across his knuckles, a few drops covering the shards of glass in the sink. Placing his hands back on the sink he felt a stray shard on the side. He put his already bloody right hand on top of it and grasped it in his palm as he tightened grip on the sink, causing another deep gash inside.

Making his way back to his room, he glanced at the wooden desk in the left side corner which was covered in sheets of papers with circular Gallifreyan written on them and pieces of the TARDIS he had tinkered with some time beforehand. Without thought he stormed towards it, his hands went to the edge and flipping it. The piles of paper scattered all over the floor with negligence as tools and mechanical parts fell to the floor with a loud _pang_. He then proceeded to show his frustration breaking it with his hands. He absent mindedly ignored the small splinters stabbing at his already torn up hand. This action wasn't accomplishing anything. He kicked one of the legs completely off and using it to demolish the desk, then throwing it across the other side of his room and connecting with the stack of books piled on top of his nightstand, knocking them over carelessly.

Thrusting his left hand in his hair, the Doctor began tugging at his strands in anger. "Monster…" he said quietly through gritted teeth and with a shaky breath. "I'm a bloody MONSTER!" His voice rose higher with each word as he spit them out in the open air. "They were children. _Children_. And I let them _drown_. I should've come up with a better idea to scare the Racnoss off. Oh no, not me. No, no, I only killed them all!" He threw his head back as screamed in the air, pacing frantically back and forth with his hand still thrusted in his hair. He has carried too much guilt for far too long. So many people have lost so much and died in his name. He never liked to talk about his previous escapades of failures with anyone, not even his closest companions. Not even _her_. He was sick and tired of feeling this way. "Everything around me falls apart. Everything I touch turns to ashes and dust. Everyone I meet is in danger of dying just by encountering me."

He stopped pacing and lowered his hand from his hair, which was now sticking up in a frenzy. With his head lowered he walked towards one of the walls, hands clenched tightly at his sides. He raised his head at the same time as his already damaged right fist and began to punch the wall with harsh force. "I don't deserve to live." _Punch_.

"I could have ended it all." _Punch_.

"I SHOULD have ended it all! I had the chance countless times, and I backed out like the coward that I am!" _Punch, punch, punch_.

"I'm a curse. A bloody cancer that infects poor, innocent lives and just ruins and kills them in more ways than one. I should have fell into the void. I've spent my life holding on, why couldn't I just let go for once and fall into dead space where I belong? I'd rather spend an eternity in nothingness than stay here. The void may be hell, but it's barely a glint in the devil's eye when compared with what I've been through. Why did I back away from my chance at peace? I should have shot a bullet to both of my hearts at the first opportunity I had. COWARD!" _Punch, punch, punch, punch, punch_.

His fist remained on the wall, pain shooting across his knuckles. No doubt it was broken. At this point he could care less about his physical being. Taking in a few shaky breaths, he placed his other hand flat against the wall's surface and rested his forehead next to it. "I should have just died," he whispered, thick with emotion.

The TARDIS nudged his mind with a comforting hum. She had been silent throughout his spiel and the Doctor didn't blame her. His mind was screeching static. He closed his eyes, forcing the tears pricking in his eyes back into his brain and pinched the bridge of his nose. At this moment he was expecting a helping hand to comfort him in his emotionally broken state. Someone to fill the empty hole in his chest that was aching him deeply. But there was no one. He was alone. Yes, his ship was always there for him and could connect with him in a way that anyone or anything else could not, but he needed a hand to hold. Someone to give him a hug. Someone to make him forget about the demons dancing inside his head. Someone to bring up a random topic just so he can use his unstoppable gob to explain the facts of it and place his opinion on it. He needed a friend, a companion.

He needed Rose.

_Rose_.

Oh, how much he'd give to see that lovely pink and yellow human. That signature tongue-in-teeth smile of hers, her infectious enthusiasm, the intoxicating scent of her strawberry banana shampoo, her hand which perfectly fit in his and just felt so right when he held it, her uplifting hugs that warmed up his hearts…

But he could never experience any of those beautiful things anymore. She's gone. Lost. Stuck in a parallel world far beyond his reach. His best friend, his antidepressant, his…_everything_.

His legs resorted to jelly as he wobbled, barely able to keep his weight on his feet and then falling onto his knees. The only audible sound in the room was the soft squeaking from his hands as he splayed them on the surface of the wall. His broken right hand smeared blood from the cuts as he slid to the floor. A sickening feeling washed over him and formed in the pit of his stomach making him gag, leaving a rotten taste linger in his mouth. He suddenly felt claustrophobic, trying to catch his breath as what felt like a steel band began to tighten around his lungs, burning and squeezing. Rassilon, what was wrong with him?

The Doctor turned around with his back against the wall, bending his knees to his chest and holding them close then burying his face in his arms. The rapid beating of his hearts slowed down a bit once his respiratory bypass kicked. He felt the tears stinging in the backs of his eyes again but still fought to force them back in before they threatened to fall. He had never felt like this over anyone before - but then again Rose was never just _anyone_. She was the one who picked up his battle scarred hearts and pieced them back together back when he was all ears and leather. Then he regenerated, all from love, and turned into the pinstriped man with great hair he was today. She kept him out of the dark when she was around. Now that she was gone could he face the darkness without her? He had to. As he said to the Beast in the Pit, if there was one thing he believed in, just one thing - it was _her_. He LOVED her. He was so, so close to telling her those words when she was standing on Bad Wolf Bay. He wanted her to know just how much she truly meant to her. "Oh, Rose…" he quietly said, "Rose Tyler, I love you with all my hearts." She would never hear those words now. They just hung in the air with nowhere to go.

Once again the TARDIS hummed gently in the Doctor's mind as he finally gave in and let his tears burn his cheeks. He slowly rocked on his feet trying to calm himself down as he sobbed. He knew how much the old girl missed having Rose around too. Her lights dimmed down a lot when the Doctor sent the projection of himself through to the parallel world. Her humming seemed more somber as well. After all the two of them came together and created Bad Wolf and saved his life. They were connected. It was obvious that the feeling of loss was mutual.

The Doctor remained in his seated position for a short while until his sobs subsided to soft whimpers. Lifting his head felt like two balloons as dizziness came over him again. Letting out mirthless chuckle he took the opportunity to stop and realize exactly what he must look like on the outside. Here he was - the almighty Doctor, last of the Time Lords, cradling himself in a ball on the floor as he surrenders and grants his emotions full access to take over his train of thought. Imagine if he had been seen by anyone. His companions would probably never make him live it down. And he would not blame them either. If the Time Lords were still around they would look down on him with such dishonor and disdain. How very _human_ of him.

He pressed his left Palm to his red rimmed eyes then wiped the tears from his face but winced when he felt throbbing pain. His attention was drawn to his right hand he had been ignoring. He hissed in pain as he examined his raw, bloodied skin with the fingers of his opposite hand. He had multiple cuts smattered across it, the deepest ones on his palm and knuckles were dark crimson. Two, possibly three, of his proximal phalanges were broken. The skin of his knuckles were swollen and red. Of course he will heal with his abilities. He could already feel his bones already start to straighten up and the skin stitch back together with a nasty purple bruise starting to form along with a slight yellow tint to his knuckles. The sonic screwdriver would help speed up the process but he still needed medical treatment.

The Doctor pulled in a long breath through his nose and blew it past his lips as he finally stood from the ground. His head was pounding unbearably from all of his yelling and crying. He walked to his bedroom door, fully intent to tend to his hand in the medbay. He opened it and walked away from the mess that lay in his room.


	3. Aftermath

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfic so I apologize if it's not that good. I wrote it all in 12 hours, so don't mind me. Also, even though I edited this a bunch of times there may still be some mistakes in it. Whoops lol ;P Reviews are welcome, I will take any constructive criticism ;) **

_**Chapter 2**_

After taking some pills for his throbbing head and nauseous stomach and tending to his injured hand with some bandages and ointment, the Doctor treated himself with a banana lollipop (his favorite flavor, of course) and made his way back to his bedroom to clean up the mess he made. Truth be told, he was somewhat uneasy about coming face to face with it all again. He was already starting to feel a lot more like himself and triggering another emotional breakdown would certainly not do him any good.

He was hesitant the moment he came up to his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath he twisted the knob and stepped inside. The first thing that came to his view was the desk. Well, what was left of it. It was utterly destroyed, shards of wood lying in the center of the room near the foot of his bed. He tore it apart with his bare hands and noticed how some of the pieces had dried up blood stained on them. The largest parts had split in many directions, creating wooden stakes. A few of the points had been dulled down broken off. That's how he got those pesky splinters. Nasty buggers they were. Luckily thanks to his healing capabilities, he now had not even a scratch. Mechanical parts he had tinkered with, along with his notes were scattered all over the floor.

The smell of blood attacked his nose. Though not as strong, it was still lingering in the air. The Doctor turned to his right to face the wall. The bloody handprint stood out predominantly, contrasting with the coral designs as it darkened and dried. Its smeared Mark stretched all the way down to the floor where he had slid to his knees. Moving closer he was able to make out the small prints of his knuckles where he punched. A shiver shot through him as he put his now bandaged hand next to the print.

If he wasn't already starting to feel sick again, then the en suite was definitely going to make sure of it.

Walking numbly to it, he was greeted by the dominant stench of blood again. Shards of glass covered the sink both inside and outside around the floor. They cracked as he walked across them with his trainers on as he surveyed the mess with somber regret. Blood stained just about every shard lying in the sink, small streaks and drops splattered like paint. The large, thick piece that he grasped tight which had given him the deep cut in his palm was crusted with blood on the sides, smeared and faint fingerprints on the flat surface. Looking up at the mirror as he did earlier, the Doctor was greeted by the hole where he punched through. His reflection no longer even was now distorted. The face he stared at wasn't that of the seething monster he met earlier - no, now it was the remorseful, guilt ridden Doctor. It was him. Truly him. Bile rose up in his throat as he looked hard at his eyes. That monster was still inside, he could feel it.

Taking a deep breath he walked out of his en suite and back to his bedroom. The Doctor noted how he had managed to knock over his complete stack of books lying on his bedside nightstand with the table leg he had broken off and thrown from the other side of the room with such precision. Well, that was…fascinating. In an ironic sense, for that matter.

After examining the damage the Doctor stood in the center of the room and stared at his shoes in shame. He had done this. Destroyed a part of his home, his life. He hadn't meant to hurt himself or the TARDIS in such a violent, unnecessary way that was far beyond his mindset. Closing his eyes he scrubbed his good hand down his face. Rassilon, he was a wreck. He had not been this beaten up since after the war. That was when he wanted to take his own life. He wanted to shoot a bullet to each of his hearts so that he wouldn't regenerate, to just be dead permanently. He hated guns with a passion which all the more pushed him to go out by one - with a bang, two so to speak.

A gentle hum interrupted his thoughts. Opening his eyes the Doctor wiped away soft tears and looked up at the ceiling. He could always count on his reliable and faithful ship. She had put up with him for so many centuries and so many regenerations. Looking around he noticed how his room was clean again. The desk had been replaced with his notes and tools rested upon it. The handprint on the wall disappeared without a trace. His books were neatly stacked on his nightstand. Looking in the en suite he saw all of the shards of glass that once covered the sink and floor picked up. The mirror above the sink was brand new and shining. Even the smell of blood had been replaced with a sultry scent of bananas. With a soft smile, he sent her his love and thanks as he headed to the console room.

Sometimes the Doctor thought his beautiful ship spoiled him too much.

The TARDIS was still drifting in the vortex after leaving Donna. He had left her exactly 28.819472 minutes ago but it had really seemed like hours ago. Then again one can easily get lost in whatever thoughts were buzzing around in that huge Time Lord mind of his.

No, he was not going to go back in that dark, damaged place again. He was completely spent at the moment after the breakdown he had had in his bedroom and revisiting the damage he had done. All he wanted to do was sit and relax for a few moments. There were some parts of the TARDIS that needed some tune ups and tinkering here and there. Maybe he could start rereading the _Harry Potter_ books again. He could catch up on his favorite television shows. It has been a long time since he watched _Intergalactic Spawns of Yolarbex_ on channel Alpha 4X-8. It used to be Rose's favorite…

_'No,'_ the Doctor thought to himself, '_Not right now.' _

While he was genuinely stable and calmed down for the moment he did not want to start up with breaking down again over the loss of Rose. The pain in his hearts will always be there and might not be rid of in a long time, or probably never at least in this regeneration. He still needed someone. Someone to stop him, as Donna told him. Though a part of him deep down still believed that it was better that he traveled alone, he still needed someone to be there for him.

The TARDIS hummed in his mind playfully as if to say, '_Hey, what about me?' _The Doctor let out a soft chuckle and sent his love and thanks to his ship. '_Cheeky old girl,'_ he said through their telepathic link. Of course she would always be there for him.

Walking over to the console he stared at the screen with his fingers gliding over the controls, deciding where and/or when to visit next. He thought for a moment then came up with the perfect place. "Oh ho, you'll love this old girl," he said out loud with a happy chirp in his voice. He began punching in the coordinates with a smile tugging his lips. "It's been a real long time since you've been here. Well, I should say the same for me since I haven't been here in a long time also. I mean, how else could I get here? Unless I magically grew wings on my head like a Eunairy - which I hope never happens. Can you imagine that? Me with wings on my head?! What would become of my hair or - "

The Doctor was interrupted by an annoyed, but sounded like laughing, hum in his mind from the TARDIS. With a smile still on his face, he pulled the lever and set his beautiful ship in motion towards their destination. He looked up as the time rotor made that famous wheezing sound he loved so much as it moved rose and fell.

The TARDIS had made it to the special place that the Doctor had brought them to. His ship was already buzzing in his mind before the wheezing sound had even stopped. The Doctor circled the console and walked towards the doors and opened them slowly to take in the beautiful view that lay beyond him.

The Medusa Cascade, in all it's beauty.

The closest place to home left for the Doctor. He came here when he was just a kid, ninety years old to be exact, just as his ambitious urge to run across the stars and explore the vast galaxies and everything out there was beginning. His history from all of his past selves and timeline were here. Everything that was the Doctor burned with the vibrant amalgam of colors of pink, turquoise and gold. Of all that lies behind the mystic beauty of this part of the galaxy, the most important thing that was hidden here was the very thing about him kept locked away - his very name.

The Doctor stood at the open TARDIS doors as he gazed upon the breathtaking scenery. Though there was a slight haunting chill about the place, he still felt a sense of solace here. He drifted closer to the Cascade where he could see everything from his past in the stars and swirls of color. He, himself, was a mixture of so many things. Darks and lights and the bits in between. He was damaged but at times felt fixed in some parts. He was full of sorrow and regret and guilt but also with wisdom and faith and kindness. He was a coward but at the same time he was brave. He was smart and brilliant but also… well, he may be the dumbest genius too.

He may be called an angel and a hero, but one thing is for sure and that is that they are not perfect. He was definitely not perfect. He has flaws and imperfections and demons hiding in the deep, dark depths of his conscience. Whatever pain lies inside the Doctor's Time Lord hearts, he will take it and accept it and move on.

After a gentle hum from the TARDIS, the Doctor backed away from the doors and closed them tight. As he walked back to the console he recalled some things he had admitted to during the incident with Mr. Lumic and the Cybermen in the parallel world. The conversation with Lumic came to him as clear as day:

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

_"You are proud of your emotions?" Lumic asked._

_"Oh, yes."_

_"Then tell me, Doctor - have you known grief - and rage - and pain?"_

_"Yes. Yes, I have."_

_"And they hurt?"_

_"Oh yes."_

_"I could set you free," Lumic said. "Would you not want that? A life without pain?"_

_"You might as well kill me," the Doctor said in a calm, hard voice._

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

It was true. As masochistic as it was, the Doctor would rather have pain than nothing at all. Always. And he would do it for everything he believes in, the one who will always kept him fighting - _her_.

_**End**_


End file.
